


Fists Like Fire

by hammy (Eromenos)



Category: King of Fighters, Street Fighter, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eromenos/pseuds/hammy
Summary: Since his invitation to the insanity of the Smash Tournament, Terry Bogard has found himself in a constant whirlwind of free-for-alls, challenges, and frays. Despite this, a minor injury has claimed Terry for a moment’s respite, and now he is faced with a newfound sense of stillness. The hungry wolf decides to use his alone time adequately, and the decision ends up revealing more about himself than he had bargained for, especially when it came to a certain martial artist with the ability to summon fire.Mature for “alone-time,” physical pining, and spicy descriptions. Not so slow burn, but not so PWP. In a way.
Relationships: Terry Bogard/Ken Masters (Street Fighter)
Kudos: 19





	Fists Like Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. If you’re reading this, I hope you’re staying safe and doing well.
> 
> Not sure why I’ve decided to spend my energy on this kind of endeavor, but I hope at least some of my efforts will find a modicum of appreciation. That much will have been enough. So then, for the setting, I treat Smash as a tournament where fighters from quite literally everywhere are invited to join. Very similar to what you’d find in other fighting games. I assume there are structures, towns, arenas, locations, etc. that fighters travel to, ideally travelling between the worlds where each fighter hails from, hence the variety of stages available. With that said, I’ll be making the assumption that there are a variety of events happening at all times that fighters can participate in, and consequences (like injuries) are very real and affect fighters accordingly. 
> 
> Lastly, Ken isn’t married to Eliza during this time (so beginning of Street Fighter 2), nor has Terry adopted Rock yet (pre-ending of Fatal Fury). Yes, the timelines are all wonky with making references to other games like Capcom vs SNK (2). It's freaking Smash; let them smash.

Terry has been a fighter his whole damn life. It’s all he’s remembered doing, all he knows to do, and all he anticipates doing for the rest of his life. So, as a fighter, Terry’s familiar with injuries.

The tug on his shoulder had subsided, but he couldn’t ignore the circumstances that lead to this. Fighting a grappler was always intimidating. In a hold, Terry was acutely aware that his life was quite literally in someone else’s hands. Er, paws. Suffering a wrongly timed suplex, Terry landed with the fullness of his weight right on his shoulder, causing his arm bone to pop out like a broken toy.

Incineroar, despite his inability to outright speak, did seem remorseful for the botch at the end of the match. Feeling bad enough, the Pokemon enlisted the help of WiiFit Trainer and a Mii Fighter to call attention to the arena medics. Thus, Terry’s recovery and rest period began. The announcement of his temporary injury led for a few well-wishers to visit him now and then as he was relegated to a bed in a clinic. But he was discharged now, and Terry could rest easy in his temporary room in a small suite provided by the Smash tournament organizers. So that’s where his period of quarantine began until he was medically cleared to participate once again.

The blond knew he was slightly dramatic about his self-containment, but being told to rest was like dulling the fangs of a hungry wolf. It only made him more restless for the fight. Regardless, Terry knew he had to stay put, and all he had to fight now was boredom.

A boredom that he’s learned to fill in a variety of ways, one of which was to become intimately acquainted with his own body. It wasn’t something he’s ever felt ashamed of, but masturbation wasn’t something Terry gave much time and effort to, considering that he was usually tired from a workout, a fight or a game of basketball. In short, Terry was more often too physically drained to even think about touching himself. If he were in a mood, there was always a pretty girl that could cause him to embarrass himself at the bar and still manage to give him the time of day to find himself in between her legs. 

Thinking of those girls now, however, inspired no interest as Terry laid down onto his bed, careful of his shoulder, and propped himself up on a few pillows. He had tossed his phone over to his side and ran a bare hand across his chest, feeling the sturdiness of his chest muscles underneath the thin cloth of his shirt. Not undressed yet, he rubbed at his chest, admiring the sculpt of his own pecs. Terry knew he was fit and trained rigorously to achieve his physique. It was a consequence of his ambition, not a result of an aesthetic goal, but it was a unique experience to lay down and actually feel what he’s worked so hard to have.

With one hand propped up behind his head, the other sliding down from his chest to his stomach, Terry found that his fingers were playing around with strings of his sweatpants. He tried again to think of that last girl he was with, but he sorely lacked desire and stopped. There were women he liked, sure, but his mind had been entirely focused on the need to return to competition. While it pained him to think about it, Southtown and its trappings took a minor backseat in search of Terry’s desire to continue training and searching for strength before the prodigal son returned to his home once more. But, again, thinking about his origin and his current circumstances back home weren’t exactly masturbation material, now were they?

A sigh passed his lips as Terry sat up from his bed and slipped out of his cotton shirt. With his fingers tangling into his blond hair, he undid his ponytail, letting his long locks flow across his shoulders and chest. Returning to the bed, Terry laid down on his back and exhaled gently, touching his chest once more and pinched a nipple. He twisted and tweaked himself, concentrating on the sensation it brought. Grasping at himself, a soft moan finally escaped his lips as he realized he was slowly building a need, but for what, he couldn’t tell. Terry closed his eyes and allowed himself to imagine someone touching him, their face and form are still shapeless. Using his own hand, he pretended that this person's hand was slowly pressing down his stomach. Feather-light touches tracing lines against his abdomen before reaching down and grabbing his crotch roughly. The hand would be large and rough, not afraid to grasp and grope.

Terry quietly whimpered as he grabbed at himself underneath his sweatpants, his legs spreading further. They’d be an invitation to his bed partner. A coaxing to tell them to continue and see what he has in store. Terry turned his head, pressing a cheek against his pillow. Suddenly, he felt like acting coy, like wanting to be touched and teased more. One hand pressed against his chest now, solidly grasping a pec as the other fondled himself through his sweatpants. 

  
“Mm, please..” he softly begged his imaginary partner, thinking about how delicate and needy he must have sounded just then. It’d be a show. The submissive position he placed himself into was invigorating as his eyes remained close, imaging now his bed partner to be a man looking down at him with a pleased smirk, giving him exactly what he wanted. Something about being submissive to a man did indeed spark desire between his legs as he gasped and writhed against his own hands. He focused on who would take him, someone handsome, blond, rough in just the right edges. Starting to heat up now, Terry opened his eyes and rushed to push off his sweatpants, slipping his underwear off before returning back to his fantasy, eyes closed once more.

_You look so good. Is it just for me?_ Terry heard in his imagination, a voice that was confident, playful, and familiar. Terry’s lips upturned in a smile as he felt proud of the remark. _Yes, just for you_ , he'd whisper. One of Terry's hands rubbed and touched across his inner thighs, causing him to spread his legs just a tad bit more. Anything that he did to himself found added heat as he imagined this blond man doing such actions. Terry pretended that his partner was kissing him there, wishing he had real lips against his skin so badly. They’d be so wet and rough, leaving streaks of saliva in his sensitive areas. While pressing hot kisses against Terry's skin, this man would grip his legs firmly and lick the remaining red mark there when his hands pulled away. Terry sighed as he teased himself further, touching the muscles of his legs and thighs with both hands now. He was rough with himself, wishing that his partner enjoyed the way his skin reddened and flushed so eagerly. Terry pretended that this handsome blond man was biting him now, speaking little sweet nothings into his skin while abusing it with his mouth. This lover would continue to bite down, nip and lick him, and it’d become so infuriating.

“Ken…” Terry groaned and imagined that he grabbed a fist full of dirty blond hair from between his legs. The foreplay was becoming torturous with every move building heat in his groin that left him feeling increasingly starving for more. “Just fuck me already.” Terry would demand. That’d make the martial artist grin with that signature fiery look on him. I thought you'd never ask, he'd say and yank Terry under him. Ken would straddle the fighter underneath him, eyeing that heavenly body for a beat before he spits into his hand, a prelude to what was about to happen next. Knowing that it was what Terry had requested, it still would fill him with anticipation. Why don't you open up for me? Ken would say as his large hand grabbed his ass to spread him wide...

But that's when Terry gasped and snapped himself out of his own fantasy. It was Ken. Ken Masters who he just imagined looking down on his naked body with a ravenous look that caused Terry's whole body to light on fire. Panting shallowly, the blond looked down at his own cock, standing at attention now from the heated imaginings. He tried to feel ashamed of this. Surely, this crossed a line that the blond must have drawn in the sand at some point. Ken was a familiar face and a distant rival, a fighting partner who can and will always take Terry to his limit. But this was not on the agenda. Since when did Terry ever feel this way about the other blond?

"...Crap." The Southtown fighter muttered since he couldn't find an answer within himself as he settled back into his pillows, eyes staring up into the ceiling as his mind reeled. Terry wasn't in denial of how he felt in regards to giving in to another man. He was young and open to anything. It was easy to think of attractive partners of any gender satisfying him, but someone like Ken felt way too close, way too familiar. Still, the stiffness of his cock reminded him of his physical state, causing an ache and an urge he knew he had to satisfy. Terry couldn't think of Ken fucking him without thinking about the occasional memory of a battle they've shared. It was too solid to think of the feeling and press of Ken's fist against his body in a well landed punch or the pain in his side when he suffered a roundhouse kick that evaded his blocks. Terry knew Ken, and it made it hard to pretend like he'd know what it'd be like to feel Ken's hard dick buried in his ass. It was even harder to feel shame when Terry knew his dick twitched slightly at the thought.

It would be something, to be held in hands that could call forth fire. Hands that were rough and calloused, just like his, with the power and discipline to break bone upon impact. Terry grabbed at his cock now, relenting to the position he put himself in as he pumped the shaft inelegantly, recalling the things he liked about the blond fighter. Terry enjoyed the way Ken would taunt and tease and was never afraid to hurt. There was power in his kicks and punches, a refined dance that reflected Terry’s own mixed style of combat. 

But the thoughts started to pull themselves away now, bringing Terry back to feeling the real sensation of heat pooling closer to his groin, his hand bringing him closer to a climax. His thoughts turned physical, now, remembering of times he’d catch glances of the sweaty sheen that bounced off of Ken’s pecs. A perk nipple that’d poke against his fire red gi top. Thoughts of rough hands grappling Terry’s own body in a judo toss. Those hands. Terry would kill to feel more of those hands.

Speaking of, his own hand started a punishing pace now, pumping himself relentlessly now, eyes scrunching themselves close. Ken was there, in his thoughts, naked and disheveled, leaning down to press their foreheads together as a hard member connected their bodies, filling and stretching Terry’s ass with a pleasured pain he’d never experienced before. Terry was panting now, thinking of what it would be like to be under him, subject to his desire, receiving such pleasure, and finally, with one last thrust, Ken would…  
  
“Uhhnn!” Apparently that was enough to take Terry to the edge, the idea of being filled with Ken’s hot cum as his own spurt from his cock, painting his hand and his stomach. He stroked himself to his completion, throwing his forearm over his face to cover his eyes, cover him from his shame. With breath beginning to slow, Terry faced the fact that what he discovered about himself just then would be hard to forget. Will he remember this moment the next time he saw the blond fighter?

Within a week’s time, he would be ready to return to the gym to begin his pre-training before he could return to the tournament. Until then, Terry figured he’d wait on answering that question.


End file.
